Saturday, 8 September 2012

Opening The Box

Box opening of the unplanned kind. A box dropped from a great height demanding you open it by landing on your head to inform you of its arrival. There's a big label on the box telling me to 'Remember Pandora' and another that says 'You need to know this - now!' So, just like the foolish Pandora, I opened the box. . . This was something that was better left to a more private setting but unwisely, my subconscious decided that there was no time like the present. I got on the bus, took my seat and the contents of the box washed over me. I panic, gulp back the tears and force the lid back down. I can't do this here and now! I want to but I can't.

Memories, flashbacks, call them what you will, I still get hit with those associated with what we tend to call 'that day.' The day that tried to steal away all my tomorrows. Mostly they are fleeting during the day (nightmares are a whole different thing) they flash into my mind, I feel cold, vulnerable and scared but normally they do disappear after a short while.

This one though refused to go away. It followed me during the rest of my day, hovering, wanting to be noticed, very insistent in an unpleasant way. It stood there haunting me as I sat drinking a coffee, it wouldn't let me concentrate on my Kindle. It would not leave me alone. In the end I could not ignore it or how it was making me feel. I cancelled an appointment and walked down to the river in search of peace, tranquil surroundings and a place to be alone with my fears.

I sat there.

I closed my eyes.

I opened the box.

Impressions wash over me.

I am floating, I am scared, I am dying.

I am in the arms of my loved one who is calling my name, I feel tears on my face and I know they are not mine.

I feel the anguish, the potent emotions of loss and love.


I open my eyes, I take a breath, I am here again.

Please don't let me go.

As I sit gazing over the water, I admire the majesty of a beautiful sunset setting the sky aflame as it turns my tears into tiny sparkles of light. I ask myself if it was a mistake to open the box but then I realise that I had no choice because the box would open whether I wanted it to or not. The contents were overwhelming in so many ways but comforting too because it adds one more piece to the puzzle of what happened 'that day.'

'That day' 

Will I ever stop thinking about it? Will it haunt me both waking and dreaming indefinitely or will the day come when I will know that the box has been gently closed and put at the back of the wardrobe? Something that I may get out and look in when I want to but not something to face every day.

Make that day come soon.

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